Vanished!
by TB's LMC
Summary: It's Halloween, and Scott experiences a communications breakdown with Base as he lands the Tracy jet back at the Island after a trip to the mainland. He discovers that the place is completely deserted...


_Summary: It's Halloween, and Scott experiences a communications breakdown with base as he lands the Tracy jet back at the Island after a trip to the mainland. He discovers to his horror that the place is completely deserted, although there's food on the table in the kitchen and the coffee in the pot is still warm..._

_Author's Note: This story was written in response to the 2004 Tracy Island Writers Forum's Fic Swap Challenge. It was voted Best Response To Request. It's been archived at the Tracy Island Chronicles since then._

* * *

><p><strong>VANISHED!<strong>

* * *

><p>"Goddammit, Scott, leave it alone."<p>

"No, Virg. You've gone too far this time. Much too far. You could've _killed_ him!"

Virgil Tracy turned a hard face toward his older brother. "I'm done."

Scott grabbed Virgil's shoulder as he turned away. "Not until I say you are!"

"Why don't you just leave me alone? Why won't everyone just shut up about Alan? I didn't kill him, although I should have!"

"Virgil..."

The argument was not going well. Virg had been shut up tighter than a clam since two nights previous...the night Alan had pushed him over the edge. Virgil Tracy rarely lost his temper, but when he did, you could be sure Mt. Saint Helens didn't even blow her top like he did.

And even though on some level Scott understood _why_ Virgil had been so pissed off, he felt it was his job as the eldest to keep his brothers from actually _killing_one another. Virgil _had_ gone too far, and the result could have been much more tragic than it was. After all, it was only the sheer force of Virgil's anger combined with his strength that had seen to it Alan landed in the pool.

All that and sheer luck, Scott figured.

But Virgil wouldn't talk to anyone...not even him. And they had always been the closest of any of the five brothers. After two hours of trying, Scott's own rather short fuse was nearly at its end.

"I need you back, Virg. I need to somehow make this right. Father is still fuming. Alan is still sulking. Gordon's on eggshells and Johnny's thinking he should come home to see if he can't keep you from trying to kill his little brother again. Just tell me why in the hell you thought it was okay to _throw __him __over __the __balcony_?"

Virg whirled on him. "You don't need me, Scott. What you need is to make everyone happy, feel like you're in control of things like always. Because right now, you're not."

Scott frowned, his jaw working.

"Whenever you're pissed off, who has to take it all in and sit on it so you can get on with your life? Who, Scott?"

Mouth opening and closing like a landed fish, Scott looked down at the carpet.

"Whenever Alan and Tin-Tin have a fight, you're always the one to soothe and smooth, aren't you? When John gets lonely on Five, you talk to him until the wee hours to keep him company. When Gordon needs a diving buddy, you'll drop everything and go with him. When Father wants this piece of paperwork done or that meeting attended in New York, who goes?"

"I do!" Scott snapped, tired of this game. "What of it?"

"Do you know _why_ you go?"

Scott could see Virgil was nearly ready to blow again and fleetingly wondered if he'd be able to get _him_ to the pool as well.

"I go because that's what I do. I'm the oldest. When someone needs something, it falls to me to provide it. Always has, ever since Mom died."

"Don't you _dare_ bring her into it. You don't do it because _we_ need _you_. You do it because _you_ need _us_."

"What?"

"And you need _me_ most of all, don't you, Scott? Because without me, you wouldn't have anyone to take that load of horse manure inside you and scoop it out with a fucking spoon!"

Scott's eyes widened, mouth twitching in barely concealed fury.

"Well, you know what? For once you need to take your incurable need for making things all better and shove it up your ass. This time you can fill your need with someone else, because _I...don't...feel...like...a...shrink...session_! I don't need you!"

Scott shook. Shook with hurt and anger and something else he couldn't put his finger on. In that moment, he hated his brother for saying those things to him. Hated him because every goddamn word of it was true.

"You selfish sonofabitch," he ground out, his voice low and menacing. "You know what you did was wrong. This has nothing to do with me."

"It has _everything_ to do with you, Scott! Everything! _Your_ needs. _Your_ wants."

Somehow, Scott knew this wasn't about Alan anymore. He started wondering if it ever had been.

"I don't want _anything_ from you but your sworn promise you won't try to kill Alan again!"

"Fuck you."

"Fine, you know what?" Scott said, his voice rising in pitch. "Fuck you too, Virgil. I don't need you half as much as you think I do."

Was that a flash of pain he saw cross those honey-colored eyes? If it had been, it was gone as quickly as it had come.

"Tell yourself whatever you want to get through the day, Scott," Virgil replied, turning his back to his brother and staring out the sliding glass door. "Fact is, you couldn't survive without us, without always having some fight to stop or some psychological problem to get to the bottom of. You're more fucked up than the rest of us put together."

Virgil didn't even see the punch coming. A sharp left knocked him sideways and he fell to the floor, barely missing the nightstand with the side of his head. Before he could regain his feet, Scott was halfway across the bedroom.

"I don't need you, Virg." Scott stalked to the door of Virgil's suite and paused, barely able to keep from punching it with one of his balled fists. He shouted over his shoulder, "I don't need _any_ of you!"

* * *

><p>And that's how, one day later, Scott Tracy found himself in Tracy One, headed back to the island. He'd thought long and hard about the fight he and Virgil had had, but mostly about the things Virgil had said to him. He knew deep down they were right on the money, but at the same time, in his stubbornness he refused to believe he needed his family as much as it sounded like he did when Virgil said it.<p>

Either way, he couldn't stay away from the island forever. If nothing else, he was International Rescue's field commander, and had no business being AWOL. As it is, his father was probably waiting to give him hell. After all, he hadn't contacted anyone since he'd taken off in the jet 18 hours earlier. To make matters worse, he'd actually turned _off_ the radio.

Groaning inwardly, he turned it back on and waited for the controlled anger of Jeff Tracy to take over the airwaves.

That's odd.

There was only silence. He switched to a couple different frequencies they sometimes used when their main one was out. Still nothing.

He took a deep breath. "This is Tracy One calling Tracy Island. Come in, Tracy Island."

Nothing.

_What the hell?_

"Tracy Island, this is Tracy One requesting clearance to land. Please confirm."

Dead air.

"Father? Come in, Father."

Where the hell were they? Someone had to be there. Even if they'd gone on a rescue, there would be _someone_ left behind. If not his dad, then at least Grandma or Kyrano.

"Tracy Island, come in, I repeat, come in!"

The radio sprang to life, but the voice that came through was so garbled by static and interference he could barely hear it.

_"...Island...clear...land...come...son..."_

"Father, you're coming in at zero strength, what's happening?"

The radio crackled once more and then went silent.

"What the hell is going on?" Scott wondered aloud as the island became a small brown speck against the horizon. "Why would communications be on the fritz like that?"

* * *

><p>Scott was only mildly surprised to find nobody waiting in the hangar to greet him as he ran through the post-flight check and exited the cockpit. If there was a problem with their satellites that was bad enough to make such a short distance transmission as he'd been trying <em>that<em> awful, they were probably all working hard to fix it.

He waited anxiously as the elevator rose. The door opened into a hall outside their living room, which doubled both as a lounge and the base of operations for International Rescue. He rounded the corner, stepping into the lounge. It was empty.

He's not here.

Normally his father would've been waiting to ream him a new one. Scott shrugged and headed for the kitchen, thinking maybe Jeff was getting a cup of coffee, or perhaps Grandma was there and could tell him where the rest of them were.

When he stepped into the spacious kitchen, it was also empty. He frowned as he took in the three mugs on the kitchen table. Walking over, he saw steam rising from them. They were still hot. Next to each mug was a plate of food. Scrambled eggs, French toast dripping in butter and syrup, bacon. He placed a hand over one of the plates and felt the heat rising off it.

A frown knitted his brow. Coffee was still hot. Food was still warm. Whoever had prepared it must have just left.

_Maybe Grandma cooked it up for someone and then made a pit stop._

Could be.

Then again, maybe the comm problem had come up just as breakfast had been served. Okay, where would they all be?

_The lab?_

He headed for the stairs leading to the bowels of the island.

* * *

><p>It took seconds to key an access code on the panel to the right of the door. Scott steeled himself; uncertain of the reception he would receive, especially from Virgil.<p>

Scott set his jaw.

_Might as well get it over with._

He walked into the darkened outer room of the lab, bracing himself for the inevitable.

But the room was silent. Empty.

_The second room?_

He moved forward into the laboratory's second room, reserved for more technical experiments.

Nothing.

Brow knitted, Scott turned on heel and strode out of the lab.

_Ah,_ he thought, nodding in satisfaction. _The __Cliff __House._

That had to be it. The Cliff House was a secondary comm center for whenever Thunderbird 5 had to be taken off line for checks, repairs or upgrades. If there was something wrong with any of the arrays or satellites, that's where they'd all be, he reasoned.

He took the stairs back up two at a time and nearly ran through the hall that led into a tunnel, which would deposit him onto the Cliff House patio.

He reached it in short order. But when he ran inside the actual control room, Scott found himself standing in an empty building.

Okay, let's recap. Short-range comm: nearly nonexistent. Lounge: empty. Kitchen: empty with warm food and coffee left on the table. Lab: empty. Cliff House: empty.

If they weren't here, and they weren't in the lab...where in the hell would they be?

"Ah!" Scott exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "I'll give Johnny a call. He'll know."

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes later, Scott's heart was beginning to pound. He'd been trying in vain to raise Thunderbird 5. Frustrated, he brought up the island schematics and asked the computer to show him the locations of the Thunderbird vehicles. The silver dot showed One was still in her silo. The green dot showed Two was in her hangar, which he already knew from having brought Tracy One into it. The yellow dot showed Four in her Pod and the red-orange dot showed Three in her silo as well.<p>

That proved they weren't out on a rescue.

He asked the computer to show him their non-IR vehicles. The boats were in the boathouse. The jets were all in the hangar. Even Alan's little Tiger plane was there. Not a single mode of transportation was missing, which meant his family was still on the island. But _where_?

The last check he made was on Thunderbird 5. Their satellite system seemed to be functioning well enough to tell him it was still in geosynchronous orbit with Earth. He started a diagnostic on their entire comm system, determined to solve that mystery as well as locate everyone. Leaving the diagnostic running in the Cliff House, Scott took the elevator down to the tarmac and headed for the Roundhouse.

"What am I thinking?" he asked aloud when he was halfway there. "Our watches!" He raised his left wrist to his face and spoke. "This is Scott calling Jeff. Scott calling Jeff, come in." For some reason, he wasn't surprised when he received no response. "Scott calling Virgil. Come in, Virgil." As he made his way to the Roundhouse, he tried raising each and every one of them on the wrist comm, but to no avail. No one answered.

"Now I _know_ something has to be wrong with the comm system."

He entered the Roundhouse and called out. Only silence answered. He began jogging around it. Each panel showed the room behind its door was unoccupied. Finally reaching the point at which he'd begun, sweat started breaking out on his forehead and his heart was pumping at breakneck speed.

That's when the idea hit. He groaned as the proverbial light bulb lit up over his head.

"It's Halloween. That must be it. They must be playing a trick on me. It _has_ to be."

That little voice inside his head nagged that even if some of them were, the odds that every single one of them, Grandma, Kyrano and Jeff included, would _not _participate in Halloween hijinks.

But he ignored the voice because right now, that explanation was the only one that made sense. They were probably all hiding somewhere, maybe on the other side of the island. He grinned as he made his way back to the Cliff House. All he had to do was ask the computer to locate them. Using the GPS in their wrist comms, it would pinpoint their exact location, and then he'd get the drop on them.

* * *

><p>The computer screen was blank. None of them were on the island. Not one.<p>

Nobody except the blue dot representing him.

_I'm __alone_.

Scott leaned back in the chair, eyes staring at a computer screen that relayed the impossible.

"I'm alone."

His mind raced. How could every single mode of transportation still be here, yet every single resident of Tracy Island simply...gone? Vanished. Just...

"Empty."

What you need is to make everyone happy, feel like you're in control of things like always.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then reopened them.

I don't need you, Virg.

Scott sat straight up in the chair.

_You can go fuck yourself._

A shaking hand rose to wipe beads of sweat from his forehead.

_I don't need any of you!_

He rose to his feet. He looked around. The silence was deafening.

_I don't need any of you!_

_I don't need any of you!_

"It can't be."

A pained look crossed his face as he began walking, then jogging, then all-out sprinting toward the villa.

"It can't be!"

Skidding to a halt in the middle of the living room, Scott turned in a full circle. He took in the portraits of his brothers hanging on the far wall with his own. Virgil had painted those. He took in the white piano. Virgil's piano. He stopped and looked at the desk. Father's desk. He spun around to see the portraits once more. Alan...he'd delivered Alan...and Gordo, the prankster, always trying to get one up on him...Johnny...bright, talented...the only one with the balls to second-guess the eldest.

His face turned to find Lady Penelope's portrait.

"Penny!" he cried. "Why didn't I think of her before?"

He ran behind the desk and punched in the secure International Rescue line that would link him up with their London agent.

There was no answer.

"Her, too?" he asked of no one. "Why her, too?"

_I don't need any of you!_

"That's not what I meant!"

He ran out onto the balcony and raised his eyes and hands to the clear blue sky.

"That's not what I meant!"

And that's when the alarm sounded.

"Calling International Rescue. Calling International Rescue. You gotta help us! We're trapped!"

"What?"

Jaw dropped in disbelief, he stepped back into the lounge to find the eyes in all five portraits blinking.

_"Please, International Rescue. Respond! We're going to die!"_

"But I can't..."

He looked back toward the desk, his feet taking him nearer and nearer the communications panel behind it.

_"Please! We have a little girl down here! Please don't let her die!"_

A little girl...

I can't...I can't... "Please! Please! Help!"

Scott's face hardened. Whatever he'd been thinking couldn't be true. It wasn't possible. He set his jaw, fist slamming onto a button that opened a channel.

"This is International Rescue receiving you." He turned and headed for Virgil's floor-to-ceiling painting of their father's rocket ship. "I'm on my way."

They were here somewhere. They had to be. A Halloween trick. That was all it was.

A trick.

He'd be damned if he let them get the best of him on this one.

It's just a trick.

The picture upended him into Virgil's chute.

Isn't it?

* * *

><p>The World Union office had been hit by enemy aircraft, trapping three WU officials along with the daughter of the Iraqi ambassador in a room two levels underground.<p>

They should've been safe, but it soon became apparent to Scott that nothing was safe from this new technology. Whatever had hit the building had obliterated it. Undoubtedly there were a great many dead. The fact that these four individuals had survived at all was a miracle in and of itself.

And it was up to him as International Rescue's lone representative to get them out.

"I can do this," he said aloud as he landed Thunderbird 2 nearby. "I'm Scott Tracy."

_Yes_, a little voice inside his head responded. _But __what __good __is __a __Scott __Tracy __all __alone?_

He mentally slammed the door on the annoying voice and raised the 'bird above her pod.

"Play all the tricks you want, guys. I'll show you."

He would save those people himself. He _would_.

* * *

><p>Using the Mole, he drilled underground to where the indicators showed the people were trapped. Several levels of building had caved in over this particular area. It was nearly impossible for him to even get out of the Mole and though he was armed with a laser that could cut through almost anything Man or Nature had to offer, he found that the more he cut through debris and tried to make his way to the victims, the more wood, concrete and steel rained down upon him.<p>

Minutes dragged by like an ever-present ticking clock in his brain.

If Virg were here, we'd have been through this shit already.

More dust and soot fell through a crack above his head, covering him in black.

I can do this. I can get to those people.

He coughed and hacked as the sounds of scraping and sliding reached his ears.

"Help us! Help us!"

He looked up in horror, the light on his hard hat showing him exactly what was happening.

No.

With a cry, he tried to crouch down to protect himself. It shifted above him. He heard a sickening snap followed by a sharp jab of pain.

And then his world went black.

* * *

><p>When he awoke, he could barely breathe. Several minutes of tortured coughing and labored breathing followed until he finally got himself under some sort of control. He found he was able to lift his head.<p>

Where am I?

He pushed himself up on his elbows.

Why is it so dark?

And he remembered. Everyone had disappeared. He'd gone on a rescue by himself. Four people were trapped. He'd been trying to get through the heavily damaged remnants of the World Union office to rescue them.

And then something had fallen.

It wasn't until he tried to get to his feet that he realized what it had fallen on.

What the hell...?

He struggled, pushing his torso up off whatever it was he'd landed on. His chest and abdomen were killing him; no doubt he'd have some serious bruises and cuts after this one.

Why...

He gave his legs a jerk.

What's going...on...

Or at least, he thought he did.

Why can't I feel...

"Oh, my God."

A wave of panic washed over him. He twisted his body, trying to roll over onto his back. But he couldn't.

I can't...I can't...no.

He swallowed hard.

"I can't move."

Twisting his head around, he banged on the light atop it a couple of times before it came back on. What greeted his eyes confirmed his suspicions.

His suspicions...and his worst nightmare.

His eyes fell upon a large, twisted steel girder at least two feet thick. Its jagged base, torn as it had been ripped from the rest of its length, was settled right on the small of his back.

He couldn't feel it.

His eyes widened in horror.

I can't feel that. How is that possible?

He moved his legs.

He _tried_ to move his legs.

They're not moving.

"My God."

Fear and adrenaline made his heart pound, his breath come in quick, rasping gasps. He tried moving his legs again. And again. And again and again and again.

"I can't feel them," he said aloud in a fierce whisper.

No. No.

"I'm...I'm..."

His mind gave voice to that which he himself could not.

Paralyzed.

He let himself fall back down face-first into the floor. He was paralyzed and he was trapped.

And he was all alone.

"Virgil..."

Consciousness slipped away.

* * *

><p>He awoke shivering.<p>

I'm alone.

The trained rescuer part of his mind knew he was halfway into shock. The other part of him let panic rise to a feverish pitch. He began to yell.

"Help me! Help me, I'm trapped! Please!"

No one answered. Not even the victims he'd been after to begin with. He raised his watch to his face.

It has to have been a dream.

"Somebody...please...someone come in."

There was no answer. He hadn't really expected one.

"Please...Father, please."

Tears filled his eyes.

"Help me. Virgil? Virg, I—I'm sorry. I'm...I didn't mean what I said."

The wetness rolled down his cheeks, making tracks in the filth covering his skin.

You're all alone. You said you didn't need them.

He tried to move again. Tried to feel the pain he should've been feeling from the steel stuck into his back. He couldn't stop shivering.

_You can go fuck yourself._

"No."

His head dropped down onto his arm, closing eyelids squeezing tears out of his eyes. The light on his hat still beamed strong and steady, but when he opened his eyes he saw the darkness closing in on his field of vision.

That's it. I'm going to die.

He closed his eyes again. How could this have happened? Where had everyone gone? If this was a Halloween trick, it had gone too far.

_I don't need any of you!_

And that's when he knew why. And he had an idea as to the how. Someone had heard him. And they'd taken him at his word.

I was wrong.

If only Virg were here.

God, I was so wrong.

Or Gordon or Alan.

I shouldn't have said what I said. I know that now.

Or Johnny. He did need them. He _did_.

I'm so sorry. Please...I'm sorry, I didn't mean it.

His eyes were wide open, but his field of vision had diminished to less than twenty-five percent.

Everyone had vanished...and it was all his fault. And now...now, he was going to vanish, too.

"I'm sorry, Virgil...Dad...John...I do need you."

His mind began to cloud over, his vision nearly gone.

"I need you...Gordo, Al...Tin-Tin..."

He could feel his heart slowing within his chest.

"I need all of you. All of you."

One more intake of air.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."

One more breath gasped out.

Scott Tracy was gone.

* * *

><p>"I think he's down here!"<p>

"But I'm not getting any life signs over there!"

"Fuck it, Gordo, I _know_ he's here!"

Virgil heaved pieces of debris away as he dug toward the spot he'd seen his brother go down.

"Scott! Scott, can you hear me?"

He received no response, but that didn't keep him from continuing. Soon Gordon joined him. Minutes later, Alan. And finally, John, who kept in contact with their father through his wrist comm.

Without a word the four brothers carried on, the only sounds grunting and groaning as they made their way toward their field commander.

Finally Virgil cried out. "Stop! I see him!"

The blue fabric of the uniform was a welcome sight to all their eyes. They made short work of the concrete covering his legs and the steel beam resting on his back. Slowly they pulled him out of the midst of the mayhem and back into the Mole, where Virgil and Gordon worked feverishly to get his heart going, to get him breathing.

"Don't you die, you sonofabitch," Virgil huffed between breaths.

"1...2...3...4," Gordon said, pumping on Scott's chest.

Virgil breathed into Scott's mouth again.

"I don't care what you said, Scott," Virgil said as Gordon did compressions again.

"What are you talking about?" Gordon asked as the Mole made its way back to the surface.

"Nothing," Virgil puffed as he breathed again.

Gordon's turn.

Virgil's turn.

Gordon's turn.

"Goddammit, Scott! I _do_ need you!" Virgil cried as he shoved Gordon out of the way.

"Hey!"

John came racing back. "What the hell...?"

Virgil raised his hands above his head. Folded into one another, they made one giant fist. He slammed them down onto Scott's chest.

Gordon moved to grab him, his intention to pull him away before he broke every bone in Scott's chest.

But that's when he breathed.

A hacking, coughing breath...but a breath.

"Scott!"

Scott's eyes blinked open. A deep moan came from his chest as sensations of pain came forth from what seemed to be every inch of his body.

"Scott!" the brothers cried as Virgil lifted his head into his arms.

Scott's eyes looked up and locked with Virgil's. "Am I...dreaming?"

"Not unless we are, too!" Gordon exclaimed, a wide grin covering his face. "I've gotta go tell Al!"

John smiled and squeezed Scott's arm before heading toward the rear of the vehicle. He didn't dare let Scott see the tears in his eyes.

"Virg..."

"Scott, thank God. What the hell were you tryin' to do down there?"

"I was...I was all alone...how did you get here?"

Scott struggled to free himself from Virgil's grasp.

"I'm...Virg, I'm paralyzed!"

Virgil's face took on a look of horror. "What? You can't move your legs?"

Scott tried...and his eyes widened when they obeyed his command.

"I don't understand," he breathed.

"Scott..."

"You were gone."

"I was what?"

"Gone. All of you. I was...I was alone, Virg."

Virgil didn't understand, but he could see the fear and panic in his brother's eyes, and pulled him tight against his chest.

"You're not alone."

"But I was!" Scott insisted. "Everyone was gone, I was alone on the island. Even Penny was gone!"

"Penny?"

"I said...oh, God, Virgil, I'm so...I'm sorry for what I said, I didn't mean it, I didn't..."

"I know, Scott. I know," he soothed, rocking him slightly.

"I'm sorry, can you...please, Virg...forgive me?"

"Of course I do, Scott. You were angry, I was angry. We had a fight, don't worry about it."

"I said I didn't need you. That I didn't need any of you."

Virgil didn't respond.

"And then...I was alone. Trying to rescue those people by myself, and the building fell on me and I was paralyzed, and I...I died."

"Well, that last part is true enough."

"What?"

"I didn't think we were going to get you back this time. Don't _ever_ do that to me again," Virgil whispered, burying his face in his brother's dirty hair.

"It couldn't have been a dream. It was so real."

"Maybe you had one of those...out of body things," Virgil offered.

No. It was more than that. I know it was.

"I don't want to die alone."

Virgil turned him slightly so they were looking into each other's eyes once more.

Scott's voice was barely a whisper. "I don't want to _be_ alone."

"You won't, Scott. You're a Tracy. You'll never be alone."

He had no idea what had happened. But as he looked into Virgil's eyes he knew that whatever it had been, it had happened for a reason. He was Scott Tracy. He was strong, he was capable, and he could do an awful lot on his own, yes.

But he needed them. Needed them all. If there was one truth he'd found, it was that nobody could go through life without anybody else in it.

He smiled as his eyes closed.

And knew he'd never be alone again.


End file.
